


In Sickness and In Health

by CrazyEyebrows



Category: Queen (Band)
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Sick Character, Sickfic, hi if youre reading this, his pajamas are fucking CUTE in my head and I WANT THEM., its not that serious though, like that one uti fic, pjs, shit had me SCREAMIN i was so anxious for brian there, soft, this shit just soft
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-18
Updated: 2019-01-22
Packaged: 2019-10-12 03:59:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,589
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17460224
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CrazyEyebrows/pseuds/CrazyEyebrows
Summary: This is just a short little thing that made me feel good to write. A nice warm-up to hopefully getting something written for an AU or anything else. :)Enjoy John being a sick baby.





	1. Chapter 1

The sun was up, the sky was blue, and John decidedly stayed under his covers for well over half the morning. The bliss of sleep had not overcome John until nearly 3 in the morning, and he had no intentions of getting up any earlier than 2 in the afternoon. These plans obviously weren't telecommunicated between his flatmate and him how he'd hoped, however, and the dark blanket did little to shield him when the curtains were violently ripped open. 

Freddie started singing loudly, and John only groaned as he woke up to it. The singer wasn't bad, if anything a little gravelly, but to the pounding that was an already forming migraine for John, he couldn't help but feel personally attacked. Freddie continued, ripping the blanket from John's grip and tossing it onto his own bed. The singing died down as John nuzzled his face into his pillow.

John was the most decent out of all four boys, and wore a set of soft, baby blue pajama pants with an even softer looking nightshirt. The shirt was short sleeved and much too big for his gangly limbs, and hung off of his body at odd spots. The clothing and pillow did little to hide his red hot skin once the blanket was gone, and John started to shiver even through the heat. Freddie crossed his arms and stared at the boyish looking man in front of him.

 "It's nearly quarter to one, John dear. Are you planning on sleeping all day?" Freddie barely noticed the whimper that came from John, who curled in on his own body even more. Freddie looked more carefully, and noticed the pool of sweat John was laying in.

"Are you okay?" Freddie asked, sitting down on the edge of the bed to feel John's forehead. It was sticky with sweat, and Freddie swept back the damp fringe that stuck to his skin. John couldn't answer, only slowly opening his eyes to look at Freddie, who clicked his tongue at his band mate. John made another soft whimpering noise, and lifted one arm to Freddie's lap. Freddie cooed, gently picking John up out of his sweat and into his arms. "It's alright, I've got you now. Oh, Love, you're so warm." Freddie continued to pet John's hair, to which John closed his eyes and leaned his head on Freddie's shoulder. John tried, but couldn't fall asleep again due to the terrible headache he was still sporting. Freddie let them stay like that for a few moments.

"Right, lets get you out of these pajamas. You've soaked them." Freddie gently puts John back in his place, and John frowns.

 "Sorry..." He mumbles, and his voice cracks halfway through the word. Freddie is already up and at his closet, looking through the clothing.

 "Nonsense, Deacy. You're obviously not feeling well. It's okay." He comes back to John with a new set of pajamas, a red set that had a small electric guitar embroidered on the left side of the chest. 

 "You've.. not gotta.. I c'n do it.." John sat up slowly, wincing and gripping at his stomach. Freddie only shushed him, starting to help him out of the clothes. He very carefully rolled the shirt up, asking John to lift his arms. When he did, Freddie praised him quietly and peeled it off. Next, he laid John down again and meticulously rolled the pants down his shaky legs, careful not to scrape him with his nails. John laid limp, appreciating the gentle touches and soft spoken words. Freddie softly rubbed at John's arm.  
  


 "I'll be right back dear, I'm going to get a cloth to clean you up." He explained and pulled away, John nearly whining at the loss of contact.

He left and came back as he said he would, damp cloth in hand. He carefully wiped John down, and rolled him over to do the same to his back.

"There, you must already be feeling better now that you're not in a pool of your own sweat, hm?" Freddie set the cloth aside, getting the clothes he laid out earlier and helping John into them. John made a small noise in agreement, and let his head rest against Freddie as he buttoned up the top. 

"Now, off to the couch to lay down where you won't get soaked again." 

 

 


	2. Brian/John Sickfic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> oops more sickfic stuff

It was midday, and Brian felt disgusting. Standing in the sun, as they had been for the last 3 hours, he could nearly feel himself starting to faint. Brian couldn't believe the idiocy that was how the four had been dressed. They were at Disney World, of course, because it just so happened to be John's birthday. John was ecstatic, but still burning in his dark long sleeved shirt and skinny jeans. Brian watched as John unbuttoned the first few buttons on the front of his shirt, feeling more than slightly jealous that his bell-cuffed white  _atrocity_ couldn't do the same. While feeling sorry for himself, he took a moments notice to feel sorry for their drummer. Roger, who even in England winter wore open, airy clothing, was in a confining  _sweater_ of all things. The news had said the wind would be terrible, Freddie swore upon it.

 _'But the news is obviously stupid. Stupid news, wont the world ever learn? Learn how to do their jobs so I could dress properly? God it's so fucking hot.'_ Brian thought to himself, and he nearly sobbed in relief when he came to his senses and heard the others talking. 

 "...Maybe we should go back, Rog. Either figure out something new for you to wear or just not come back at all. It is quite hot, I don't want you to get hurt." John spoke, hand patting Roger's shoulder.

"What? No, It's your birthday, Deacy. I refuse. We're going to have fun today."

 "If I'm completely honest Roger seeing you suffer  _does_ sound absolutely terrific. Except in a room with AC, and definitely after burning that goddamn sweater." Brian watched as Freddie choked on his popcorn. Freddie himself wasn't actually too bad off, having worn a heavy coat with a thin shirt rather than a thicker shirt, he simply took the refining article of clothing off, tying it around his waist. Roger laughed at the statement.

 "I'll be fine! Look," He said, pulling the sweater up and over his head. His chest and arms were wet and red, and he sighed dramatically. "Oh- That actually feels really good. Fuck, mate." John hit Roger's arm.

 "Rog! Children! And- Really guys. I don't want..." John's voice started to fade out, and Brian tried extra hard to hear what he was saying. He struggled, and leaned forward to hear...

 Within moments, all he could feel was a burning on his cheek. He was so disorientated, that he didn't even understand he'd fallen until he felt John pick him up. 

* * *

Barely an hour after his collapse, Brian woke up in bed. Or... Not bed. He found that, instead of a warm, comfortable mattress, he was laying on damp, chilly towels. He moved slightly, and found that he was laying in boxers on the sofa, and that he was sweating profousely.

 "The hell..." He mumbled, whining then at the pang of pain in his head.

 "You're awake." He heard John's soft, whispering voice bleed through the pain, and he mumbled a pathetic,

_Mhm._

He felt, then, a hot hand on his forehead, brushing underneath the mop of hair. Brian just barely moaned when he felt the hand leave, and in its place got a cold towel. 

 "Ooh... That feels good." He mumbled, feeling John now movie a damp towel down the rest of his body. 

 "Yes, I know. I'm surprised you're so sick, Brian. It's not like you... You're also deathly skinny. Have you been eating?" John whispered, which Brian was thankful for. 

 "Mmn... sometimes." He answered vaguely. "Usually don't... Busy." John clicked his tongue dissapprovingly.

 "Are you feelng nauseous?" John asked, to which Brian said 'No'. The rag stopped moving along his body, and John seemed to dissappear. Within moments, however, he was back. "Sit up, now, Brian." He helped Brian, who whimpered as he leaned against the bsck of the couch.

 "God, Deaky... Oh my god." His eyes snapped open. "Disney- your birthday- I'm so sor-" 

 "Hush." John's gentle fingers graced Brian's face. "I don't mind this. I volunteered to look after you." The simple sentence made Brian blush, "And if you don't allow me to, I'll tell Freddie you ruined my birthday." Brian coulsn't say no to that, and thud continued a day of eating soup, getting scrubbed with a rag, and having to lay on the floor while John switched out his wet towels for clean ones.

 At ten o'clock, John told Brian to wait, (as though he had a choice,) and left for about ten minutes. When he came back, he heloed Brian to his feet, and walked him back into the bedroom. It was a small room, with a twin sized mattress in the corner, now covered in two blue beach towels. Brian wanted to laugh, but also to moan as John laid him down. 

 John gently got into bed with him, turning out the lamp quietly.

 "How do you feel?" He asked, Brian clinging to him.

 "Terrible. But much less so than I would if Roger or Freddie were doing this." John snorted, hands coming up into Brian's hair. "... Thank you, Deaks."

 "Of course, Brian"

And with that, the two fell asleep, arm in arm.


End file.
